Close Encounters

It could be said that Special Agent Rick Castle was an early riser.

The truth was that he was simply the kind who never went to bed in the first place. Especially this day, of all days, and he knew that was leaking out into the atmosphere of their home and affecting his people. At work or in bed, his colleagues were suffering for it.

He just didn't know how else to manage stress.

Today was her procedure. Transfusion. And if that didn't work, next up was transplant, a bone marrow transplant using marrow created in a lab and a bone graft that would take the place of what her own body was producing.

He was rooting for the damn transfusion. Let it be that simple. Let it be smooth. He knew the statistics, knew the procedure backward and front, knew the time she had and the initial weakness, the resiliency or lack thereof of her immune system afterwards.

He just didn't know the outcome. He had no control over this.

And he couldn't sleep.

Neither could his new one year old.

Castle roused from the office chair and hunted down the hallway towards the boy's room. Sasha had not abandoned her post, despite her whining at James for sleep, and Castle ducked to rub the top of her head just beside the crib.

James got to his feet, throwing up his arms in silent demand.

Castle lowered the side of the crib and reached in, plucked his son from the sweat-damp sheets. "Did you have a bad dream?" He fished out a pacifier and the special ratty blanket he wouldn't let go of these days, found the corduroy elephant thrown to the floor. "You're supposed to be sleeping so that you're not a total brat when Mom's under."

"Dadada." The baby refused the pacifier, so Castle tossed it back. "Dada."

"That's me." James rubbed his face against Castle's shoulder. He combed his fingers through the baby's hair, the softly curling stuff at his nape. "You're gonna be just like your mama, aren't you?"

James growled like the dog, and Castle laughed.

"Alright, more like your pack mama, got it. Come on then, Jay P. Let's see if you're tired enough to sleep with Mommy, huh? Can you be really quiet and fall back to sleep if she's right there?"

Castle carried the boy back down the hall, into his office first to log out of the system and wipe the cache, clear his passwords. It was all those automatic things he'd learned so long ago, never imagining this moment right here. Holding his one year old son in his arms as he longed more for his wife and family than his work.

Sasha had followed; she was at the door waiting on them. James kicked his feet and grunted against Castle's neck but he didn't try to wriggle down for the dog. Kid was probably exhausted. His birthday party had been a week ago, but they really hadn't gotten back on track since then. Martha had come over twice, dropping in without a phone call in warning, but Castle had to admit he had enjoyed her visits.

Whatever that meant.

He didn't like to dwell on it; he had his wife, his son. He didn't need a mother.

Castle shifted on his feet and eased the bedroom door open. James protested his being carried, but he stopped squawking when Castle tugged his ear and stepped inside.

"Mommy," James grinned. He leaned out for her and Castle let him onto the bed. James immediately crawled right up the middle and sank down in the curve of her body, cuddling like he always did with Sasha on the couch.

"Come on, puppy," Castle murmured, scooping the dog off the floor to gently put her on the bed as well. "You too. Quietly. Don't wake her."

"Ate," James said. He seemed to have learned Kate's name these last few days, but who had taught him that, they had no idea. He patted the pillow and put his head down, but his eyes stayed open.

Not good.

Castle pulled off his sweatpants and crawled into bed with them, arranging himself around Sasha and trying not to wake his wife. He wanted her well-rested for today's procedure, didn't want a damn thing blocking their way to a healthy recovery. He pushed an arm under the boy's pillow, which was his own anyway, and he laid down right at James's back in an effort to keep the boy away from her.

His son turned and beamed at him, patted his nose. "I, Daddy."

"Hi," he whispered. "Can you be a sweet boy, be quiet?"

"Ite, Daddy."

"That's right, quiet. Means no talking."

"Let 'em talk," Kate slurred. Castle glanced past James to find her eyes still closed, but awareness in the tension of her body. "Doesn't talk enough."

"Shh," he hushed, laying his hand on James's body to keep him from engaging her. "Back to sleep, love."

"Mm." Her hand unfurled from her cheek and her fingers broached the spaced between them. She got licked for it, Sasha eagerly nosing into her. She laughed, and her eyes came open finally. "Hi, guys. Morning."

"Not really," he sighed. "Only about five."

"Respectable," she whispered. "With coffee."

"Not today it's not," he growled.

Her lips quirked; she was laughing at him and he didn't care. She couldn't eat this morning before the blood tests, so no coffee, no breakfast. She wasn't going to be laughing later.

James slinked out from under his hand and crawled over Sasha to be closer to his mommy, and Castle couldn't really blame him. "You should sleep if you can, Kate."

"Probably won't," she admitted, cracking an eyelid to look at him. "But I'll just lie here and enjoy my family."

He melted; he did. He could admit it. She always knew how to get to him. "Love you, Kate."

"I know you do. Ditto, baby."

He squirmed closer now himself, accidentally kneeing Sasha in his quest. The dog didn't budge, unwilling to give up ground, and now James was actually on top of his mother, draped at her ribs, and she laughed and wrapped her arm around him. Kisses to the top of his head.

"Wow, you guys are clingy."

"Can you blame us?" he muttered.

Her eyes came to him again, her lips turning tender. She reached past the squirming boy, the furry obstacle of the dog, and she cupped his cheek. "I'm going to be fine, going to be good, Rick. I am in this story. This is my story: it's you guys. Celebrating his birthday, nagging you to be a son to your mother, refereeing your crazy wrestling matches with this kid, watching Sasha teach him to speak wolf instead of human." She grinned widely and nudged in against his pillow, kissing his nose. "Besides, I can't wait to see you in your Halloween costume. Love this life you made for me, Rick Castle."

He wrapped her in his arms. He would not let go.

There was an emergency response team waiting just in case. She knew that didn't comfort Castle, but she thought it showed how responsibly they were undertaking this experimental procedure. They had set up a room for her and their family, comfortable, a nice reclining chair, padded, pillows, blankets, television on the wall. Toys and things to distract James.

She held the baby in her lap as they hooked her up to the dialysis machine (she knew she was doing it to prove something to Castle, but she hoped it worked). James leaned back against her chest and chewed viciously on his teething ring, watching Logan and Boyd as they inserted the needles in either arm and put in the ports.

Little bit more than mere dialysis, of course.

Castle sat beside her, leaning in against the head of the reclined chair, studying the guys intently. She couldn't knock her knuckles against his furrowed brow and ease his tension, her wrists were already strapped to the armrests to keep her from jostling the ports. But she blew a breath into his face to make him startle.

He stared at her. Blinked.

Then he reached past Logan and took James out of her lap, shook his head at her. He cradled James like a baby and the boy didn't struggle, let his father soothe him, though it was Castle who needed the soothing.

"You're okay," she told him, keeping her voice low. Logan was taping the port in her right arm. "I'm okay. I'll be awake the whole time, just - probably get really tired during the transfusion."

"They're draining all of the blood out of your body," he said tightly.

"And pouring it back in."

"But there's that lag. As it's treated."

"No, no lag. It's a cocktail, some of James and some of what they've created in the lab. There's no lag, and my own treated blood goes back inside my body."

He nodded tightly; she knew he knew all of that. Knew it now. But he had been quizzing her all week, as if trying to trip her up. She'd simply let him; she deserved that much, keeping it from him in the first place. Let him try to find holes in their theories.

He hadn't. This had been under process since Paris, since that horror, almost dying. She had known he could never never go back there again; she would have to find a way to be better.

She had just not wanted it to hurt him. He looked so forlorn. "Rick."

He kissed her forehead. "Hey, it's not you," he said roughly. "I know you're mine, you're strong and determined, a fighter. This is my nightmare, love, that's all. My issue. I'm gonna worry the whole time, and then when it's over and you're waking up with new blood in you, we'll make fun of my anxiety and I'll make jokes about Dracula."

"Never gonna make fun of you," she said, wishing her arms weren't already taped into place.

"Hey, guys? We're ready."

She turned her head and found Boyd and Logan waiting, Logan poised by the machine and ready to open it up. She nodded and glanced to Castle, waiting for his consent, but he was holding James and looking so worried.

She had to be the one. "Alright," she said firmly. "Let's get this started."

Logan nodded back and turned on the machine.

The blood began to drain out of her arm.